


Leashed

by Lightspeed



Series: Monstrous Intent [35]
Category: Team Fortress 2
Genre: Aftercare, Alternate Universe - Creatures & Monsters, Anal Sex, Bathing/Washing, Bondage, Cuddling & Snuggling, Excessive Amounts of Come, Groping, Hand Jobs, Knotting, Large Insertion, Licking, Loud Sex, M/M, Oral Sex, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Rimming, Rough Sex, Sex Toys, Strip Tease, Transformation, Werewolf!Demoman, Werewolves
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-04
Updated: 2015-07-04
Packaged: 2018-04-07 14:08:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,750
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4266135
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lightspeed/pseuds/Lightspeed
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The transfer to Coldfront presents issues for Demoman’s werewolf nature.  Specifically, it’s difficult to get out and work out his energy when snowstorms keep making it impossible to leave the base.  So instead, he and Sniper decide to try a different way to tame the beast.  Using ropes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Leashed

**Author's Note:**

  * For [forgottensunflowers](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=forgottensunflowers).



"Test the ropes," Sniper said, chewing on a thought as he surveyed his work.

Before him laid Demoman, spread eagle upon the bed they shared, goosebumps prickling up along his warm skin. He was bound at the wrists and ankles to the metal bars that made up the head and footboards of the creaky company-issue bed. His body trembled a bit with excitement, naked, bared for his lover, and his cock had already begun to stir from the sheer anticipation of the night they had planned.

It was a full moon, the first of the year, and what better place to be stuck in the dead of January than the mountains, surrounded by snow, ice, and more snow? The Coldfront base was inhospitable at best, so without any place to roam outdoors, the two mercenaries had decided that without anything to hide from their teammates, they'd keep the festivities indoors. With a few precautions, of course.

Demoman tested the ropes, finding them slack enough to grow into, but secure enough to keep him relatively immobile. Once the transformation was complete, he'd be perfectly held, and the thought excited him.

He'd always been the one in charge, the rutting monstrous presence taking his Sniper over and over, using and claiming him. He spent his time as the wolf unfettered, but now he was held in place, kept from causing too much trouble and taking control. Instead, he'd be Sniper's toy. It sent a thrill through the werewolf, a goofy grin sitting across his lips. "They should be good, Dee. Enough slack not tae hurt, I wager."

"Good. Last thing I wanna do is kill the mood by restrictin' your bloodflow," Sniper joked, eyeing up his boyfriend with a lurid grin. He bent over Demoman, pressing their bodies close, running calloused hands over the other man's chest and belly, and kissed him softly. "You look fetching like this. Should tie you up for a good ride more often."

The bomber chuckled lightly, "Dinnae hear me sayin' nae."

"I'll remember that, then," the bushman grinned, kissing his lover one last time before leaning back. "Should get meself ready then, shouldn't I?"

"Why's that?"

"Well, I mean, 'ow long've you got?"

"Probably...," Demoman sniffed a moment, wriggling in his bonds, the itchy tremble of his skin and muscles growing somewhat intolerable as he settled into immobility, "not more'n ten minutes, now." Casting a glance to the window, the bomber frowned. It was rimed in ice and snow, and could barely be seen through. Made timing things out less of an exact science.

"Yeh, so I should, yanno, get myself open."

"I'm held fast, love. There's nae rush. Ye dinnae have tae be ready for me. I'm ready for ye," the bomber fairly purred, single eye hooded and taking on a yellow light in the dim illumination of the single desk lamp lighting the room. His whole body was beginning to ache, and his head was pounding, heart racing, and all he could think about was the slim, fully dressed Australian standing beside the bed with his hip cocked out like he didn't know what that did to him.

"You want a little show to howl and drool at? Like some bloody cartoon wolf?" Sniper chuckled, tucking his thumbs into his pockets and showing he knew exactly what his hips-first stance did to the supine lupine.

"That mean yer goin' tae dress up in a wee tiny dress and sing me a song?" Demoman waggled his eyebrows.

The bushman laughed at the image, with his scrawny, hairy legs on display beneath a dress that would hang from him like a sheet with his balls peeking from beneath. "Oh, Wolfy."

They shared snickers at that, before settling back into comfortable quiet. Sniper busied himself checking the locks on the door and windows, casting longing glances to the dark skinned Adonis currently tied to his bed. The man was amazing; gorgeous no matter what form he took, and Sniper counted him the greatest of his blessings.

"Not long now," Demoman murmured, the discomfort growing into low-level pain. He could feel his gums begin to itch, and a not-quite-chill hummed in his spine as it prepared to elongate. "Wish I could talk through this."

"Only thing could make it better, I wager," the Sniper agreed. "Love you, pup."

"Love you too, Mickey."

"The safeword is kibble, alright?"

Demoman just grinned at that, and it was then that the curse struck; a yelp tore from the bomber's elongating mouth.

Sniper tried to look away, instead taking off his shoes and socks to set aside, along with his watch and glove. He hated seeing his lover in such discomfort, and while watching his body warp and change was certainly a curiosity, it hurt his heart all the same. Even so, his hisses and groans were still torture, the Scot trying to hold back his voice as his skeletal structure bent and reshaped itself, his face pushing out into a muzzle, spine stretching into a tail, and fur erupting from his skin. When the bomber had gone quiet, a soft growling the only sound from him, he looked to see Demoman was no longer human.

Laying in the bed was a massive creature, too tall for the bed, though the ropes accounted for it readily, spreading his legs wide around the footboard. His tail sat, lashing impatiently between his open legs, his cock had flagged with the duress of his experience, hiding back within him, and shaggy black fur covered his entirety. Green energy bled slowly from beneath his eyepatch, and a single golden eye was trained directly on Sniper. The ropes seemed to fit perfectly, and as if to illustrate, the great wolf tested them, whining, licking his chops as he looked upon his lover hungrily. A fangy grin crept across his muzzle once he was sure that he was held fast. Just as planned. Demoman settled in to watch Sniper intently, taking in the scent of his pheromones and arousal even through his clothes.

Looking over the beautiful form of his lupine lover, Sniper felt his trousers grow tight. The Scot was perfect as a human. He was perfect as a werewolf. And Sniper wasn't sure how long he could help himself. Swallowing the sudden rush of saliva in his mouth, the bushman began to strip.

He unbuttoned his shirt first, smirking as Demoman's eye followed his hands. "You're goin' to be a good pup and watch?"

The great wolf whimpered, ears perked high. His tail wagged a little against the mattress.

"Good boy," Sniper growled, toying slowly with his buttons. He wore no undershirt beneath, and with each button he undid, he exposed more of his bare chest; his soft, dark hair peeking through. He took his time, and once he'd finished with three buttons, stopped, and regarded his vest. "Should probably do something with this, right?"

Demoman licked his teeth lightly and observed as the Australian let the vest slip slowly off of his shoulders and arms, to the floor, then resumed his work on the shirt. Sniper tugged it from where it was tucked into his trousers, exposing peeks of belly and hip as he did; small glimpses of sun-kissed peachy flesh dusted with dark hair.

Sniper cast a look to the monster tied to his bed, watching the busy golden eye of his lover as it roved over him. It seemed almost to glow through the yellow filter of his sunglasses, brilliant and bright amid the blackness of his fur. It gave the bushman a thrill, watching Demoman watching him, feeling his gaze practically groping him as the great wolf drank the sight of him in.

It made him terribly self-conscious, hyper-aware of every movement of his gangly form, and mildly concerned that he looked like an complete nutter, unbuttoning his shirt slowly, trying not to watch his own hands and instead maintain eye contact with his bound boyfriend.

It was so quiet in the room. He could hear his own heart pounding. He could hear Demoman's soft panting, and the whispering whimpers that left his throat when he took the time to swallow his saliva. As the last button was finished, Sniper wished he'd put on some music. But hearing the werewolf's whimpers grow ever so slightly louder, he was immediately glad he hadn't.

He opened his shirt, letting it hang wide, baring his chest and belly for the bomber to enjoy. With a steadying breath, the hunter dug a thumb under his belt, tugging the waist of his pants down slightly, and brought his other down to do the same, shimmying them down to sit atop his hips, a fluffy curl of hair peeking up over his belt under where his happy trail descended. He ran a hand up his belly, through the dark fluff that coated it, over the slight muscle beneath, and relished the gaze that followed his fingers. He toyed with the hair at the centre of his chest before giving one nipple a pinch, closing his eyes and taking in the sensation as he rubbed the hardened nub of flesh between calloused fingertips. He hummed his pleasure, and Demoman did the same, a soft canine sound escaping the beast's maw.

Sniper cast a glance to his lover, noting the renewed stirring between his thighs. Beginning to harden, the thick, maroon length of his cock was creeping back out of its furry sheath. It made the bushman terribly excited, and he was suddenly all too aware of how far down his belt was now hitched and how uncomfortable his trousers had become.

He turned his back to Demoman and let his arms drop to his sides, his shirt following slowly, slipping down from his shoulders to catch at his elbows. The bushman's back was dotted with scars and freckles, sinewy muscle flexing lightly with his movements. A collection of puncture wounds along his shoulders and sides made the werewolf ache, knowing he'd been the one to put those there. Little white scars showed where he'd grasped and held the slim human in the throes of their lovemaking, marking his passage upon this man permanently.

Demoman swallowed thickly.

Sniper let the shirt fall the rest of the way to the floor, his low-hitched trousers outlining the slight curve of his ass. He unbuckled his belt and tugged it free, then turned back to face the bound beast, holding the strip of leather in one hand.

He looked terribly dangerous, standing there in his low-slung trousers, akubra, and shades, a snarl on his lip and a bulge between his legs. The belt dangled in one hand like a threat, a strip of nicked and stained leather with a steel buckle and a few holes that were stretched from use. The bushman regarded the thing for a long, silent moment, the gears turning in his canny mind. This belt had uses, that much was clear. But what would he do with it?

He licked his lips, the silence stretching into awkwardness, his mind running a mile a minute. What could he do with a belt of leather that would be sexy for his massive werewolf boyfriend? A thought struck him, and he looked back to Demoman, a grin curling his lips with intent.

The werewolf salivated as Sniper walked up alongside him, his eye sliding up the slim line of the bushman's body, idling at his hips, which were swaying just right. Thoughts of grabbing those hips and ruthlessly fucking that little ass bobbed through his head, the human's screams of lust playing in his memory. He hungered; he lusted; he wanted. Tugging at his bonds, he was unable to act on any of it, held in place by the expertly tied ropes around his limbs. His tail wagged in a mix of excitement and frustration, and as Sniper came to a stop beside his head, he whimpered softly.

The man smelled amazing up close, his pheromones heady and intoxicating with such little distance between them, and Demoman could catch the scent of his toiletries, his breakfast, and the slight tinge of chocolate from a brunch of cocoa and toast they had shared earlier, among the various scents that his clothes had accrued.

The human's dextrous hand slipped down his chest and belly, ruffling through Demoman's fur on its path down his abdomen. A hair's breadth away from his growing cock, it came to a stop, Sniper digging his nails into his pelt and giving him a gentle scratch before retreating back up to drag his nails under his chin.

The whimper that followed was louder, needful, and forlorn, and made the bushman smile. "Now, pup, you've gotta be patient. Be a good boy," he cooed, slipping a hand under the beast's head to lift it, and threading the belt beneath it. He laid him back down and buckled the belt around his neck, leaving enough slack for comfort. When his nimble fingers finished their work, he pressed a kiss to Demoman's muzzle. He was answered with a whimper and a lick, which Sniper answered with a lick of his own, slipping beneath the wolf's lip to graze sharp teeth and soft gums. It drew another whimper from the massive monster, who turned to lick that clever tongue before Sniper pulled away with a shiver. "Good boy," he repeated, voice a bare growl.

The thumping of Demoman's wagging tail nearly drowned out his plaintive whines.

"You want this?" Sniper asked, hands falling to the waist of his pants, to the button of his fly, toying with it.

An answering whine, followed with a soft grumble issued from the werewolf's closed mouth, his chest heaving as he took deep, eager breaths. With each beat of his heart, his cock ached and grew, longer, thicker, stretching up in an arc over his abdomen and fattening with his arousal.

"Alright then," the bushman growled, popping open the button and gripping his zipper. He waited a long, painful moment before slowly urging his fly open, spreading the fabric wide when he was done, revealing that, as usual, he wore no underwear.

The scent of Sniper nearly overwhelmed Demoman, his pheromones and musk just this side of cloying as his genitals met the open air. It was dizzying in how much it aroused the werewolf, and he salivated openly, muzzle parting to pant shallow breaths into the open air, a whining groan slipping through his nose. The smell of the man, bared for him, slowly shimmying his trousers down his slim hips, sent hot bolts to the bomber's groin with every breath, making his balls ache and his cock grow near painfully hard. As Sniper's khakis hit the floor, he let out a soft bark of need, straining and sniffing in the man's direction, hunger in his eye.

Sniper's gaze slid between Demoman's thighs, where the massive length of the werewolf's straining cock stood, twitching lightly with his pulse, fatter around than the bushman's forearm and just around a foot in length. (Sniper had made sure to check once, in a fit of curiosity shortly before being pinned down and ravaged by the werewolf and his freshly-measured member.) Its base was beginning to fatten and spread, the muscle tying up inside of it and forming its knot.

He'd never watched Demoman knot before, typically finding it doing the task inside of him or while being humped, and thus a bit problematic to observe. It was a curious thing, watching it flare out in a thick lump at its base, massive even compared to the terribly thick shaft. It made him hungry, and a little terrified, to know that something that big would go inside of his body several times over the course of a single night, every month.

"Lookit that beaut," Sniper breathed, kicking away his trousers and sauntering the few steps to give himself better access, leaning in to look the thing up and down.

Demoman swallowed audibly, a light huff leaving his nose in anticipation.

"It's a bloody wonder, it is," the bushman continued, reaching down to run a hand against the werewolf's knot, feeling the immense heat pouring off of his soft, firm flesh. He palmed at the thing, rubbing it carefully, relishing the comfortable sensation of a hot cock in his hand, enormous as it may be, and let his grasp wander up its length to the head, which flared in a human fashion then tapered to a thinner point. He ran his thumb along the ridge of the crown, and chuckled darkly as the great beast arched up and growled with need in response, insistent whines chasing every sound. "Absolutely perfect." Sniper leaned in to press a kiss to the werewolf's muzzle, trailing a line up his cheek. He nuzzled in beside his eye and let his hand drift to Demoman's belly, scratching through his black fur in lazy circles. "You're so bloody hot, you know that?"

The Scot's gold eye ticked in his direction, narrowing as his maw curled into a panting smile. He nosed up at the bushman and licked at his lips, a soft whine leaving him. The hand scratching at his belly crept up to the beast's chest, his thumb flicking at Demoman's nipple. He grinned at the answering snuffle, and gave it a good tweak, eliciting a groan as the Scot arched into his touch. With a contented hum, he circled that spot, giving it attention and working the wolf's nipple into a hard nub under his fingers. All the while, Demoman squirmed in his bonds, whining and grumbling.

Sniper leaned up close to the bomber's pointed ear, nosing along the soft, short fur that lined it. "I'm gonna piss you off. I'm gonna touch you all over," he growled, illustrating his point by shifting his evil fingers to Demoman's other nipple and working on it. "I'm gonna make you hard enough to cry. I'm gonna touch you, lick you. Rub your prick all over me. Then I'm gonna let you get a good taste of me. I'm gonna stretch myself, fuck myself while you watch, and then, _maybe_ I'll climb on that cock of yours and ride you. Niiiice and slow. I'm gonna keep you on edge, until you can't bloody take it anymore. Then I'll pull off. Keep you from comin'. Make you howl how bad you need it. How bad you want me."

Demoman whimpered, cowed, shaking with arousal at the mere thought, at the gravelly hot sound of Sniper's threats in his ear. He was sure he would die, the need and hunger clouding his mind already screaming for action. The wolf within him was furious, and he was so wanting. He licked at his maw and cast a nervous glance up at his human lover.

"You be a good boy, and then maybe I'll let you come." Sniper chuckled, pulling back and letting his hands drift along his lover's chest and belly, clawing through his fur to let dull nails drag along the undercoat and skin beneath. "Maybe."

Bloody hell, that skinny Australian _was_ going to kill him.

Demoman tried to steady his breathing, which came in short, rough pants as Sniper's hand slid through his fur, over his belly and hips, down the outside of his thighs, then up the inside, brushing devastatingly close to his balls before turning away. He trekked back down the wolf's legs, along his calves, his hocks, then down his feet with their dewclaws and the toes to their very tips, ending in sharp, black claws. He pressed a kiss to one toe, nosing in at where it met the keratin of his claw, and after a moment's thought, let the tip of his tongue run along the barely exposed skin there.

The sensation was strange, and not unpleasant, but as his nerves burned and buzzed, everything felt amazing to Demoman, and he sniffed in surprise, trying to shrink away. This only brought a grin to the pensive assassin's face. They had been together long enough as lovers, if not boyfriends, that he knew the sight of Tavish DeGroot: Werewolf rather well. But in the high-energy flurry of their activities every full moon, he'd never had the chance to truly appreciate the beautiful shapes his lover's body took every month. His body was always beautiful, of course, but this was a different sort. One he was eager to finally glimpse outside of the haze of coital lust.

There was definitely lust, but he didn't presently have a shaft thicker than a beer can up his arse, so it was very much a change of perspective. That would come a bit later.

Sniper nuzzled at Demoman's one foot a moment longer before moving back up, scratching and petting the werewolf's legs, taking in every shape and difference, and the growing pace of his breath as his fingers crept up those powerful thighs. His knuckle gently brushed Demoman's balls, and the gasp that rewarded him was perfect.

He rubbed gently with that knuckle, letting his eyes rove his lover's body. He was tense, his belly rising and falling with each panting breath, a creature composed of muscle and size, clad in thick fur better built for Scottish moors than the dry, hot desert. Were they to venture outdoors, he would find himself rather comfortable in the snowy mountains of the Coldfront base, the black beast running through the cold forests along the mountainside, a point of shadow amidst the moonlit snow.

A whimper drew Sniper from his thoughts, drawing his eyes back to Demoman's single golden one, plaintive sounds leaving his nose.

The assassin chuckled low as he acquiesced, letting his idle hand drift from the wolf's thigh to the maroon length of his cock, fingers drifting gently along its underside. His touch was feather-light, the barest glide of skin to skin as he slowly traced a line from root to tip, then back down again.

Demoman arched into his touch, panting, whining, needful. It took precious little to rile his libido in his present state, even less when the lanky, wiry, sultry-voiced Australian was concerned. And here, bound, exposed, and being so casually ogled, it was already becoming more than he could handle. He wasn't a patient man to begin with, and the wolf taking hold of his mind, snarling and demanding his mate, did not help one bit.

Sniper traced the thick bulge of the underside of Demoman's cock, grinning as his lover lifted his hips to follow, and then cupped the head with his palm, letting his fingers tickle along its ridge. He curled his index and middle fingers along the monster's frenulum, rubbing gently, lazily, moving with the stuttering little thrusts that he caused.

"You want more, don't you?" the bushman asked, his other hand stroking at Demoman's knot. "Go on, tell me."

A moment's hesitation, worried he was doing exactly what he shouldn't, and the werewolf barked meekly.

"Only that much? I thought you'd want it more than that." Sniper's grin was smug, near insufferable, and he was so very pleased with himself.

Demoman barked again, louder, more desperate, a bit self-conscious at how much like a house pet he sounded.

With little pomp, the rangy assassin climbed onto the bed, onto his lover, and slung a leg over Demoman's belly, facing his cock and presenting his narrow, fuzzy bottom to the werewolf. He leaned down, bringing him face to head with the gigantic phallus and nuzzled against its crown, feeling its heat against his cheek and closed eye, brushing his nose along the warm flesh and humming contentedly. The scent of him filled his nose, and the feeling was more than just arousing; it was comforting. He wondered how long he could get away just with snuggling his boyfriend's boner, especially with his own erection poking the werewolf in the belly. So instead, he began to lick.

Demoman arched up with Sniper atop him, a yelp leaving him as hot, wet tongue began to caress the slit of his cock, tracing down and out around the crown and ridge. The human lipped at his sensitive flesh, laying flat laps against him and making him shiver. He spread his saliva, slicking his heated member, and peeked into sensitive spots with nimble licks. His hands, calloused as they were, rubbed at the knot, petting it and sliding along it, drawing pleasure up through him and out in hot waves. The wolf grumbled and whined, needful whimpers escaping his panting muzzle, his hips bucking without care. He clenched his fists and arched his back, and when Sniper chuckled then wrapped his mouth around as much of the head as he could fit in his mouth, he let out howl.

Sniper lavished what little cock he could get between his lips with wet swirls of his tongue and questing pokes. His taste was difficult to truly grasp, somewhat musky with a slight salty tang. He would also call it a warm flavour, the distinct feeling of skin against the tongue, hot with blood and want, and dipping his tongue into the monster's slit, he hummed at the flavour of his bitter, salty precome. He moaned a bit, lazily tongue-bathing the tip before pulling off, laughing some more. "Like that, do you, pup?"

Demoman snuffled and whined in reply.

"That's good," the bushman teased, then let go of the thick length in his hands. "Because we've got a lot more to go. Now you be a good boy for me," he cooed, climbing onto all fours and backing up the beast's body, ignoring the dismayed sounds and frantic bucking of hips that followed, nearly slapping him in the face with the massive cock he'd just been licking. He presented his ass in front of Demoman's face, settling in just so at the tip of his muzzle, and waited. "You know what to do."

The Scot certainly did. He ogled Sniper's rear a moment. That small but tight butt dusted in soft, dark hair, the similarly fuzzy thighs, the fetching curve of his taint leading down to balls that wrinkled a bit extra as they tucked up against the bushman's body in the chill of their drafty quarters. They were flushed with cold and arousal, and he almost thought it cute. His eye drifted back to his prize, presented for him at the crux of the assassin's slightly spread ass. Craning forward, wishing he could grab those fuzzy cheeks and spread them with his clawed hands, Demoman began to lap at Sniper's asshole, working his flat tongue in to press wet and perfect against his hot pucker, driving a moan from him.

"Yesss, like that. Shhhhit!" Sniper hissed, laying belly-to-belly with his lupine lover, his cock pressed uncomfortably between them. He didn't care, rocking his hips to grind into the Scot's furry middle. He grabbed for Demoman's cock, wrapping his hands back around it, and set back to licking the tip, nosing against the heated flesh and working beneath the ridge of the head. The beast bucked when he hit particular sweet spots, and the assassin was more than entertained at the fact that his erogenous zones didn't change all that much between forms. Instead, he melted onto the werewolf, relaxing as that long tongue lapped at him, licking at Demoman's cock in turn.

The taste of soap was almost off-putting, drowning out any natural flavour of the human's body, but Demoman was glad for it compared to any alternatives. His lover was intensely thorough with his hygiene, and he was grateful. The soap flavour would fade, even if its scent would remain, stubborn. The werewolf snuffled, lapping eagerly at Sniper's hole, bathing it and his whole ass crack in saliva, slippery and warm. The answering heat on his cock drove him further, every little lick answered with a large one, every warm mouthing garnering a concentrated series of laps against his hole. When Sniper arched up to pop the tip back in his mouth, Demoman wriggled his tongue inside as best he could, shivering at the vibrations the bushman's moan sent through him.

Sniper pulled off of Demoman's cock, slurping loudly as he pulled the massive thing from his mouth and arched into the feel of the werewolf's tongue inside of him. "That's right, pup. That's good," he growled, voice growing a bit pinched. The wiggling organ inside of him curled and slipped out, only to return on another lap, the werewolf's tongue not quite as skilled as a human's. That was half the reason it was as arousing as it was for the assassin, the feel of that flat, wet heat slipping back into him and tonguing at his insides. The cold moisture of his nose pressing against the crest of his ass. The fur and whiskers of the beast's muzzle pushing between his cheeks as Demoman ate his ass with as much skill as he could muster in his present state. It was all deliciously inhuman, monstrous, and filthy. Sniper shuddered as he relaxed around that flickering tongue, his eyes rolling back and falling closed in bliss.

Biting his lip, he had to will himself to pull off, to leave that beautiful pleasure, heating and tightening his insides even as it loosened the muscles of his willing ass. He didn't want to come yet, and this was heading him straight down that road. He had a bound werewolf to play with, and he had plans for him, yet.

Demoman whimpered, stretching to lap at any part of Sniper that he could, arching to make any contact between their bodies, nearly yelping as the bushman climbed off of his prone form. He barked softly, as if to demand an explanation, and bucked his hips demandingly, his cock uncomfortably hard and now completely unattended. It throbbed with each beat of his heart, and a bead of precome formed at its tip.

"What's wrong, pup?" Sniper teased, stretching as he climbed off of the werewolf. He took his cock in hand and gave it a squeeze, resisting the urge to just tug himself out onto the beast's dark maw no matter how fetching Demoman always looked with a face full of spunk.

A frustrated bark was the Scot's reply, tugging at his bonds.

"That'll get you nowhere. I'm not done 'avin' fun with you yet, and you know it," the Australian growled, swatting his lover's furry flank with a chuckle. In answer to the whimper he received, he shrugged. "Really, 'ow often does a bloke get a bloody werewolf tied down to 'is bed? I've gotta make the most of it, yeh?"

The grin that crossed his lips was devilish, and it made Demoman lick his chops, a little intimidated by the smaller man. What else did he have planned? The Scot tried to remember what he'd said earlier, but came up with simply the memory of his growling, fried voice and the sharp teeth it passed between, rather than any of the actual words he'd said.

"Now, I've got a bit of work to do," Sniper teased, sauntering away from the bed and over to his dresser in the corner. He knelt and tugged the bottom drawer out, pulling it off of its runners and setting it on the floor beside him. It looked too short, not long enough to reach the back of the dresser, like it was mis-matched. He reached into the open hole of the dresser and lifted a box out of it, having sat behind where the too-short drawer reached.

The box was wooden; a light, finished pine with a metal latch that held it shut, and about as big as Sniper's thigh. He set the box next to him and put the drawer back into place, then brought the box over next to the bed where Demoman watched, silently wanting. He cast a quick grin to the wolf, then opened the latch, lifting the box's lid.

The box was lined with fabric, deep royal blue in counterpoint to the pale wood, and inside of it sat a fat, maroon dildo. It had to be custom-made, because to Demoman's eye it looked exactly like a scale replica of his own equipment, cast in a far more reasonable size. It even had a knot. He didn't dare wonder who the bushman had contacted to have it made, nor how he managed to provide so perfect a description for reproduction. Instead, he simply licked his chops and watched as Sniper pulled a bottle of lubricant from the box and began to slick it up.

He wasn't even going to stretch?

The assassin laid back on the floor, the hard, painted concrete freezing against his bare back. He lifted his legs, spreading and exposing himself, and reaching a hand between his legs, positioned the toy against his spit-slicked hole. He licked his lips and leveled his gaze on Demoman's eye. Then he began to push the dildo in.

The way was easier than it would have been, his ass relaxed from the tongue-bath his lupine boyfriend had given him, but all the same, it was slow going, working the head of the toy into himself with heavy, panting breaths. The stretch was nice, a pleasant thickness entering him, and Sniper let his eyes fall closed as he enjoyed the sensation. He could feel his pulse in his cock, throbbing and eager, and it only grew stronger, hotter, as he filled his ass up. Pleasure trickled through him, humming out in easy, lazy washes as the toy went deeper, deeper, and when he reached its knot, he paused.

Demoman's breath came fast, panting openly as he watched Sniper's ass greedily take the replica of his cock, the slippery toy sliding in with little resistance. The lubricant was chemical and awful to his nose, but he didn't care. He could smell Sniper's arousal, his pheromones, and it made him salivate as the dildo slid into his rangy lover's ass down to the knot. He smelled so good, and the soft gasps, the quiet moans that left the bushman as he made a show of filling himself up made Demoman ache.

He wanted him. He wanted to grab that toy and throw it aside and fill him with the genuine article, make him scream and beg and wake up the entire base. The man and wolf in his mind were growing quickly frayed together, and when Sniper pushed the toy's fat knot inside of himself with a groan, Demoman fought his bonds for freedom.

He thrashed, he bucked, snuffling and whining as he tried his damnedest to get loose, but to no avail. Instead, he was treated to the sight of Sniper grinning up at him, then tugging the toy out, only to shove it back in again, knot and all, gasping as he did. Then he did it again. And again, picking up a rhythm, fucking himself with the replica of Demoman's knotted cock, filling his ass up over and over. He moaned shamelessly as he did, making a show of it. He kept his hooded eyes glued on Demoman, who settled and listened, sniffing the air to take in his scent, his single golden eye glued on Sniper's pliant behind.

It was torture, laying there forced to simply watch as Sniper moaned like a whore and writhed on the concrete floor, his legs spread wide as he roughly plunged the dildo into his ass over and over. "God, fuck me, fuck me! Fuck, you're so good, love," Sniper purred, his voice catching on panting breaths as he fucked himself, his hat having fallen off of his head to the floor. "Fill me up, put that knot in me."

Demoman whimpered, tongue lolling out as he salivated, his cock aching with need. He felt like he was going to explode, like he would tear himself in half and burst all at once, pressure and hunger and the all-consuming need to mate running at a rolling boil within his monstrous mind. He could feel the wolf pushing everything to the side, a red blur of need, and Sniper cooing like he was already fucking him did not help things.

Sniper slowed to a stop, licking his lips as he watched the near-imperceptible change in his lover. Gone was the pleading and the whining, a final soft whimper sounding before he fell silent, and settled into watching with intensity. Time to get moving. He tugged the toy free of himself, dropping it to the floor for later cleaning, and got up onto his knees. He turned to the box and leaned over it, presenting to Demoman with a wiggle of his bottom.

A hungry snarl rewarded him, and Sniper grinned. He withdrew a fat butt plug from the box, one Demoman knew well. It was the toy he often used to prepare for his lover on full moons, so it was no surprise to the wolf when he watched Sniper pouring generous amounts of lubricant onto the plump plastic plug.

The bushman set the plug on the floor between his legs and positioned himself, facing Demoman. He wanted his lover to see his face. With a steadying breath, he began to lower himself onto the toy, one hand reaching back to spread himself. He bent slowly, and when the tip of the toy pressed against his stretched hole, cool and slick against his heated flesh, he hissed a short breath. He licked his lips, and began to push down.

The stretch was almost immediate, the toy flaring out far and fast, and Sniper clenched his eyes shut as he pushed in enough to fuck himself with. An inch or two, not much but enough to thrust, and he stopped, taking a breath. It burned, opening him wide, rigid and unforgiving inside of him. His muscles twitched around the plug, and he shivered. It hurt, but it was a good hurt, and he felt empty inside, wanting it deeper. He opened his eyes and looked to Demoman, who stared like an obedient hound awaiting permission to devour a dropped piece of steak at the dinner table. That golden eye bored into Sniper, and it was more than a little arousing to watch the beast's belly rise and fall, his muscles clench in tension, waiting, wishing to strike.

Sniper lifted himself, then lowered again, thrusting the tip of the toy into himself, slowly easing his muscles to relax and open. With each downward stroke, he eked more of the plug's length into his ass, heat searing through him. "So bloody massive," he sighed, his gaze drifting for a moment to Demoman's straining cock, which wept precome down its head in a thin, clear trail. "Can't wait to have you inside me."

It was careful, it was gradual, but slowly, so slowly, he worked more of the toy inside, stretched himself wider, wider, his voice coming in strained grunts and stuttering whines until finally he breached the end, popping it inside and feeling himself close around the comparatively thin neck of the toy. His cheeks touched the cold concrete of the floor, and the plug was completely inside of him.

A moan of relief and accomplishment left Sniper, his lips parted in strained gasping breaths. He was full, so full, but nowhere near capacity. And it felt _so_ good. "Yeah, that's right."

Demoman barked, a groan following it as he licked his teeth and returned to silence. He stared, hungry, wanting, the need to mate growing overpoweringly virulent. And when Sniper smiled and leaned back to tug at the plug, stretching himself around it again, the wolf whimpered.

He was stretched so wide, pushing and pulling on the massive toy, forcing it in and out of his eager ass, getting it used to the slide. It stole Sniper's breath, his legs quivering as he worked it, then slipped it out, his ass gaping wide for the bomber to see.

Demoman wasn't sure whether he wanted to shove his tongue or cock in there more, but he wanted Sniper. That much he was sure of.

Sniper struggled to his feet, his legs shaky, his ass already sore, and his skin chilled by the wintry air seeping in through the windows. He bent to pick up the lube and held the bottle over Demoman's twitching cock. "It's going to be a bit chilly," he announced, then squeezed the rest of the bottle onto the werewolf's length, using one hand to spread it as thoroughly as he could.

The werewolf sucked a breath through clenched teeth, the temperature difference shocking him as much as the sudden rush of sensation, and it quickly faded into soft throaty sounds of contentment, that calloused hand warm against him. Sniper's grip couldn't quite circle his girth, and he worked the lube over every inch of him, making him slippery with the slick slide of that wonderful hand.

It was a relief, really; contact after so long of a tease. And when Sniper grabbed hold of Demoman's cock and climbed onto the bed, it made the wolf hold his breath.

Sniper stood astride Demoman's hips and positioned himself, pressing the fat head of his gargantuan cock against his well-stretched hole. His hold was slippery, but as he began to lower, it was enough to keep it in place as he pushed it inside.

Their heads fell back in unison as they gasped. Demoman arched up, unable to hold himself back, and demanded more of his lover's body. Sniper had no time to react, and with a rough buck of the wolf's hips, the head popped inside, making him yelp in a mix of pleasure, pain, and surprised. "Shit!"

Demoman whined, worry on his lupine brow. The bushman panted for a moment, trying to steady himself, to regain his sense, his control of his body. But he shook his head, waving his lover off. He was fine. It was okay. He grit his teeth and resumed lowering himself, sliding more and more inside of his ass. He fell to his knees and let go with his hand, planting himself on all fours atop the beast as he slid down to the knot and stayed there, shivering. It was huge, colossal, and he was stretched so wide around the werewolf's cock. It was hot, and throbbed inside of him with Demoman's pulse, opening him up and filling him deeply. It ached, it burned, and it was perfect. And with the wolf bound, even as he struggled, Sniper could appreciate the feeling of just being filled.

His hand fell to his belly. It was a silly thought, but he felt so full, like there was no room left inside of him, and it made is breath fall shallow and rough. His jaw ached, clenched tight, and he laid forward atop Demoman, his forehead falling to his furry chest. He was so soft.

"You feel so good, pup," he moaned, rolling his hips a bit and feeling the slippery slide inside of him. There was so much inside of him, it made him dizzy. Hot waves rolled up his spine, down his legs, and through his abdomen. He moved again, and again, his shoulders shuddering and hands beginning to twitch. The burning stretch and slick movement in and out of his wonderfully sore hole had him shivering with tense, tightly-wound pleasure. "So bloody good."

The pace was agonizing. Slow, so slow, the barest slide in and out, the slightest drag through that clenching hole and along the assassin's insides. It was maddening. He was tight. Even relaxed as he was, he was tight around Demoman's cock, hot and welcoming and perfect around his length, and the wolf could feel himself drooling under the onslaught of sensation. That rangy body cleaving to his, the erection poking his furry belly, those nimble hands barely working as they clutched him tightly. What little humanity that was left wandering the surface of the Scot's mind was utterly enamoured with his lover holding him close, so vulnerable and sexy.

He bucked his hips.

Sniper yet out a yowl, pleasure and shock, and tilted up onto his knees, lifting his ass almost completely off of Demoman's cock. He looked up, leveling a glare at the beast's eye, and snarled, his voice low, dangerous. "You try that again, pup, and I'll be off of you and back on that plug in a heartbeat. You're mine to play with, not the other way around. And you be a good boy or I leave you tied here with dried lube on your prick and blue balls 'til morning." After a snort from the beast, he rejoined, "Do not test me."

Demoman didn't, settling down. A quiet whine left his nose, and he waited, tense. Sniper lowered back down, centimetre by centimetre, until he was seated back down to the knot. He took a deep, shaky breath, groaning softly, and resumed fucking himself on Demoman's cock. Slow, lazy strokes, up and down his length, taking him entirely at his leisure.

It was maddening. He felt so good, so tight, so hot, but Demoman could tell he was prolonging things. Sniper didn't care about coming. He was enjoying the sensation, but he could feel the curl of the human's lip against his belly whenever his breath caught, whenever the wolf would whine, whenever his breath picking up. He was enjoying teasing him, keeping him hungry, trundling toward the edge at a stroll's pace. The monster tested the ropes, then clenched his clawed fists, his head falling back to the pillow. He was stuck in place, unable to do a damn thing about his increasing desperation. He closed his eye and let himself be lost in the sensation. If he could only concentrate on how good it felt, their bodies together, his cock deep in Sniper's ass, it could get him there. It could bring him closer.

Sniper stopped, sighing contentedly.

What in the hell? Demoman snapped up to look Sniper in the eye, frustrated to see the bushman smirking at him.

"What's wrong, pup? You want somethin'?"

Bloody right he wanted something! The Scot arched his hips just a little, not bucking in, but trying to articulate his need without words. It was painfully difficult when he couldn't even call the words to mind in the first place. Not with that hot ass around his cock. Not with the miasma of monstrous aggression and need swirling in his head.

"Oh? This?" Sniper asked, rolling his hips and grinning wide at the relieved groan he'd earned. "Why's that?"

Demoman whined. He tugged at his restraints a little more insistently.

"I suppose a little more's fine." The bushman chuckled, and resumed his snail's pace, rolling his hips, sliding that massive cock out, then in, then out so slowly it made the ache worse than the absence of movement.

He felt amazing, slick and tight, but the sluggish rhythm, uneven and lazy, frayed the edges of the werewolf's patience. His breath raced with his heart, his stomach in knots and his balls hitched tight, and he knew that if Sniper would just bloody _move_ he could finish.

But he didn't. He kept on with that unhurried rolling of his hips, like he could do this all day.

Michael Mundy was a man of immense patience. He'd hunker down in one place, in one position for days on end, going without all but the most basic of human needs in order to complete a mission. He could keep his eye on the scope for hours and lie in wait as long as he needed to in order to make a shot. He could stay perfectly still to avoid detection. And it terrified Demoman. Because Sniper likely could and would spend all day half-heartedly fucking himself on the werewolf's painfully hard cock if he wanted. He could draw it out as long as he cared, wringing pleasure from the Scot until he was sobbing and raw. And he would do it with that damned smug smile across his sharp teeth.

Pressure had built and settled in Demoman's guts like a lead weight, heat and tension wound tight with nowhere to go, no release in sight. His whole body was coiled like a spring, his toes taut, his hands clenched, his hips burning to buck and fuck and take what he wanted from the rangy Australian's sweet ass. He struggled against the ropes binding him. It was too much. It wasn't enough. The ropes creaked and the bed agreed with them, creaking its own complaints to match.

He couldn't take it. He couldn't take it. He couldn't--

Sniper stopped.

"Gettin' hungry, pup? Fancy I should hop off and fetch us a snack? We can finish this later, yeh?" The assassin grinned, sitting up, spearing himself deep, down to the knot with a light gasp. He sighed, the nodded. "Yeh, I think a bite to eat would really get the energy going. Besides, we're going to be here for a _long_ time." He began lifting himself up, sighing as the massive length left him slowly.

No.

NO.

Demoman growled, snarled, and bucked, demanding what was his, what he needed, and thrust up into Sniper. The bushman's knees buckled and he landed back atop his lover with a shout. With a vicious sound that struck fear into Sniper, Demoman fought his ropes. His shoulders bulged, his elbows bent, and he arched up, wrenching forward with all of his might. The bars of the headboard groaned under the stress, denting in as they were bent forward, and it was just enough slack. The wolf hooked a clawed thumb under one rope and with some effort, sliced it free, then took care of the other with his liberated hand. A desperate growl saw Sniper held down against Demoman with one strong arm across his back, and the beast doubled over to free his feet.

The slashed ropes fell away, and so did Demoman, taking rough hold of Sniper and dragging him to the floor. Those claws sank shallowly into the human's hips as his werewolf lover buried himself deep inside, bearing down atop him with a wild-eyed snarl. He howled, his voice loud and bestial, echoing in the small room, and he began to fuck Sniper, pulling him back onto his cock over and over, scraping his lover's bare back against the concrete floor. He released the bushman's hip with one hand and used it to pin him down, hard and heavy atop his clavicle. The hard floor bit into Demoman's knees, but he paid it no mind, his clawed feet clicking and scraping the painted stone as he snapped his hips, ramming his cock into the prone human over and over, taking what was his.

Sniper gasped, the breath driven from him with each thrust, his voice coming out in warbling cries of pleasure. He would've grinned, but he couldn't quite muster it, overwhelmed with sensation and glee. He'd wondered how long it would take to make the werewolf snap. He'd figured it might be longer than that, but maybe threatening to leave the room was dirty pool. Either way, it worked, and he'd gotten exactly what he'd wanted. The stretch hurt just right, burning and throbbing pure pleasure through him, hot and hard and so bloody _full_. He hollered his ecstasy as Demoman railed him senseless, uncaring of decorum or neighbours. His werewolf boyfriend was shagging him stupid and that was all that really mattered in the end.

He was beautiful. Massive, terrifying, and baring those sharp, hungry teeth. He looked dangerous and delicious. And he was stuffing him so full of cock he could barely breathe.

Demoman rutted, hard and fast, hammering into Sniper with abandon. He wanted this to last forever. He wanted to punish Sniper with his cock. He wanted to drive him to madness with the rough, fast fucking of a monster pushed to his limit. But even more than that, he wanted to come. And he wanted to be as deep inside of Sniper has he could when he did.

Sitting back on his hocks, Demoman took hold of Sniper's hips once again, and pulled him down hard, thrusting in the same motion. It hurt, it burned, it ached the bushman's sore ass, and he knew exactly what was happening. He stretched wider, wider, slowly, as Demoman pushed his knot into his human mate's welcoming hole. Sniper fairly screamed, bellowing in overwhelming sensation as pleasure and pain spiked.

He'd only ever taken Demoman's knot from within before, letting it tie inside of his ass, behind the tight ring of muscle that it was now trying to pass. It was difficult to take even then, but now. Now, that enormous knot was being worked into him, opening him up even wider, stretching his muscles and flesh even further, and it made tears prick at the corners of Sniper's eyes. He wasn't sure whether it was agony or ecstasy, just painful enough, but not enough to kill the blissful sensation the stretch brought.

He was knotting him. He was pinning to the floor, fucking him, and shoving his knot into Sniper's ass. The bushman was shivering with the utterly debased reality of his situation. It made his cock twitch.

"Fuckin' hell," Sniper gasped, his back going stiff as the knot reached its widest point. Drool splattered to the floor beside his head, more falling to his chest, his neck. Saliva dripped from Demoman's maw as he snarled his need, claws digging into Sniper's skin to draw blood, forcing his knot into the human's well-used ass.

Sniper was his, and he wanted Sniper. He wanted his mate. Needed his mate. To fuck him, breed him, fill him completely.

A final push, and Demoman's knot slipped the rest of the way past Sniper's asshole, popping inside to sit, fat and heavy, behind that abused entrance. His hips met the bushman's ass, and he howled his victory, finally seated completely within his mate. He watched Sniper shiver, arching in his grasp, overwhelmed by fullness and arousal. Pitching back forward, Demoman gave the human's face a lick and returned one hand to his shoulder to hold him down properly. The other stayed gripping his hip tightly, and he let loose another howl, shaking the windows in his triumph, and began to rut again.

Short, shallow strokes slapped the werewolf's furry balls against Sniper's backside, shoving at the knot inside of him, driving him that last bit of depth with each ingress, pulling at his sore hole from inside with each retreat, dragging his cock along the bushman's insides with burning hot thrusts. Sniper howled and sobbed, his lover drooling and grunting atop him, saliva cooling along his cheek, and his whole body rocking, held in place as the great beast slammed into him over and over. Taking rough hold of his own cock, Sniper grasped at Demoman's makeshift collar with the other, holding on for dear life as he began to tug at himself, orgasm not far off and rushing quickly closer. The belt around the beast's neck jingled with each movement, the leather creaking in his grasp. His whole body was alive, tense yet pliant, thrumming with electric prickles and jabbing, hungry heat. He was dizzy, and grinding his head against the concrete as he arched in the werewolf's grasp, Sniper came with a shout, nearly a scream, painting his belly and hand as shudders wracked him.

The rippling clenches of Sniper around his cock were the final kick Demoman needed, knotted deep inside his mate, and he growled, a terribly menacing sound, before bucking in one last time and coming, flooding Sniper with his seed and filling him completely. His cock throbbed with each spurt as he emptied his load into his mate's waiting insides. Lupine hips worked in final, hungry jutters, milking himself out into the bushman, until finally, he sagged, spent, still knotted up inside of the smaller man.

Sniper shuddered, his insides feeling swollen, a pressure within him that had nowhere to go. It was warm, strangely comforting, though its liquid nature made the slightest movement a somewhat queasy endeavour. When Demoman finally came to a halt, he groaned, squeezing his eyes shut a moment to just let himself feel. He was sore, but in such a wonderful way. His gut ached and felt bloated, and it was horribly arousing. He could feel his come cooling on his belly, and the thin sheen of sweat he'd developed doing the same.

A warm, wet tongue brought him to awareness; Demoman lapped at his face in short strokes. He sounded like a happy puppy with the noises he made, canine and endearing, as he kissed his cheek and the side of his head, licking his hair up into haphazard points. Sniper could feel their bodies swaying with the wag of the werewolf's tail.

He opened his eyes and smiled, laughing softly. "That's a good pup. I was wondering 'ow long it would take to get you riled enough."

Demoman grumbled at that, and resumed turning the bushman's hair into a series of cowlicks. His hands pet at the smaller man's shoulders, careful with his claws, and the open wounds he had put into the one side. He licked at them, as well, cleaning the blood from his skin and whimpering in apology.

"It's alright, Tav. You know I like it," Sniper soothed, petting at Demoman's head. He scratched behind his ears and through the thick fur that formed a mane going down his neck. More licks to the face had him laughing, which quickly set him to groaning, having jostled the come still filling him. "Aw, hell."

The Scot nuzzled at his lover's temple, pressing a soft lick there in apology. It would be a while before the knot tying them together relaxed and allowed him relief.

"No need to apologise, love. Let's 'ave us a cuddle, yeah?"

Demoman leaned up on his knees, supporting Sniper's back with one hand, and looked about. He spied a towel, cleverly hidden beneath the bed, and pulled it out. Holding it up with one huge, clawed hand, he gave his human lover a knowing look.

"Gotta be prepared. Always have a towel."

After laying the cloth out on the floor, Demoman gingerly moved Sniper atop it, rolling him carefully onto his side and wrapping himself around the rangy Australian to hold him close and keep him as comfortable as possible. He resumed licking at Sniper's face and hair.

It was rather cozy, warmed by his furry boyfriend's body as they laid together, being kissed and tended to by Demoman's warm, wet tongue. It felt nice. To be doted on, cared for, and groomed by his lover with lazy laps. It lulled Sniper, and though he couldn't sleep, he could certainly doze, content with his place in the universe.

 

 

*

 

Sleeping had proven to be a difficult endeavour for Medic. He'd spent the night cuddled between both Heavy and Scout, sandwiched comfortably between his handsome lovers, and it should have been peaceful and cozy.

Instead, the three of them spent a sizable portion of the night cringing and grumbling as they were roused from their attempts at slumber by snarling, barking, growling, and howling, not to mention Sniper's wanton screams of ardor and the sounds of their sloppy, savage coitus filling the base and, in particular, the hallway that housed their quarters.

While Sniper's assigned quarters were two rooms away from Heavy's, which was the room the three lovers shared, Engineer's room between them did nothing to muffle the sound. Their later exodus to Scout's quarters at the end of the hall did little more, and the three men were grateful, likely along with the rest of their team, that they had a ceasefire due to weather scheduled for the next morning so they could sleep in.

Medic needed it. He tugged his enchanted robe on, the fabric phasing magically through his wings and shaping itself around them, and tied it shut, slipping out of the door to Scout's quarters. The early-rising faun had already left the room, eager to get a shower and go work out before breakfast. He was normally brimming with energy, and even the lack of sleep didn't slow him too much, though Scout had mentioned several times that he intended to grab a nap after breakfast, and was hoping a good run first would tire him out enough to just crash once his belly was full.

It sounded rather nice, and the faun's older lovers had mumbled something about joining him for that nap. But for now, Medic needed a shower. One didn't listen to his teammates having rough, monstrous sex all night without finding himself of a temper at least once, and the discomfort of dried fluids on his skin needed to be cleansed. Reaching a finger behind the lens of his glasses to dig some sleep crust from the corner of his eye, he made his way for the showers, leaving Heavy to continue his slow, unwilling waking without the garuda to use as a reason to stay in bed.

He nearly poked himself in the eye as he was lightly kicked by Sniper's limp foot, somehow at chest-level to the doctor. "Was ist los?" Walking down the hall past him was Demoman, looking utterly exhausted and carrying a barely-conscious and totally haggard Sniper in his arms like the world's most fucked-out bride. Both were naked, and smelled of a mixture of lubricant, semen, and dog. Sniper, in fact, still seemed slick between his thighs and along his backside.

"Sorry, Doc," the bomber called sheepishly. Sniper's limbs were long, gangly, and not necessarily obedient when he was being carried.

"Think nothing of it." Medic half-jogged to catch up and matched his sluggish pace. "So I take it last night was...eventful?" His grin was completely lurid, and one pointed eyebrow was cocked high. He knew full well the answer, but details were so much fun.

"Aye, I'm sure ye all heard the howlin' and carryin' on. No secret anymore. But Mickey's had a rough night, so I need tae take care o' him. Time tae clean up, then get the lad breakfast before a well-deserved nap," Demoman replied, not slowing his pace.

"How thoughtful," the doctor smiled. "Though I suppose it is the least you can do after doing...this to him. You know, we _are_ stationed here the next few months. Perhaps next time, you two might not wish to be so...private?"

Demoman cast him a confused look. "Ye want us tae shag in public?"

"Well, if you want, but nein. I'm simply hoping we could see you, Demo. I have never seen a werewolf in full hybrid form before, und it would be a fascinating experience. Sniper speaks reverently of your bestial majesty," Medic supplied, spreading his hands before him in an arc, as if tracing a rainbow in the air as he walked.

"Sniper also speaks casually about how yer a teratophile like he is," the Scot chuckled. "Ye just want a peek at me furry bum. Then ye'll be all, 'Ach, perhaps ein more in-depzh examination is in order! I must conduct ein full pelvic exam! Allow me to fetch zhe long rubber glove und zhe lubricant, und ve vill get schtarted! Now, bend ovah!'"

Medic frowned, bristling at the unflattering imitation, his feathers fluffed up and wings raised. "You do not need to be so insulting. Or so crass," he sniffed with exaggerated indignation. "We both know it is entirely more likely that I'd request you preform the pelvic exam on me, anyway."

Demoman grinned, mirrored by the doctor. "True, that."

"So what do you have planned today, then? I can't imagine either of you slept particularly well."

"Like I said. Clean up, get the lad tae bed. He needs tae rest and sleep it off. Ye ken who's got breakfast duty?"

"I believe it's Pyro. Which usually means french toast or pancakes."

"Good, that travels well. Dinnae think Sniper's like tae make it tae the table."  
  
"Breakfast in bed. What a good boyfriend you are," Medic teased with a chuckle.

Demoman smiled in return, a bit sadly, and looked down at the limp, dozing man in his arms. "It's the least I can do. After causin' _this_."

"You're too hard on yourself, mein Freund. That's like saying you're sorry for giving the man an entire cake."

"Doc, I can assure ye. That's nae icing."

**Author's Note:**

> a thank-you gift for the absolutely amazing and generous forgottensunflowers


End file.
